


When The Dead Come Knocking

by MimiWritesHerFandoms, mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: It’s been over a year since the outbreak and the world has gone to shit. Mary, Dean, Sam, Donna, Jody, and Letty have survived this long thanks, in part, to the safety of the Men of Letters bunker. And then, on a routine trip into Lebanon, everything changes.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

It started the night the angels fell. People started turning on each other, fighting and killing, but that wasn’t the strangest part. You see, the ones that died, they uh… they didn’t stay dead. And when they came back, they were hungry. But not for food like burgers and fries, no. Flesh and blood was what they craved, what drove them to kill, to eat people alive while they screamed and fought, doing everything in their power to get away, to survive.

It was like watching dominoes; push one over and the rest go with it. The disease spread like wildfire, sparking in the dry grasses of Texas in the middle of summer, burning everything in its path. There was no national guard to come and save the day, no emergency broadcast from the CDC, no magical cure; nothing. Just the living and the dead, fighting for the top spot of the goddamn food chain.

See, when Metatron went rogue, he didn’t just kick the angels out and lock the gates of Heaven. Son of a bitch went and started the zombie apocalypse.

* * *

Mary was in the pantry, taking stock of what inventory they had gone through over the last week. It didn’t surprise her that some shelves were almost bare; there were six people in the bunker, two of which were her boys. While they had scaled back on certain foods, Dean and Sam still proved to be bottomless pits.

She was chuckling to herself and shaking her head when she turned, finding Dean standing in the doorway. “What’s so funny?” He was smiling softly, just enough to wipe away the constant worry he wore heavy on his brow.

It didn’t matter how long she had been back on Earth, she couldn’t get used to seeing her son as a man. “Just gettin’ a list together.”

Dean came over and kissed his mother’s cheek before peeking at the notepad. “More noodles?”

“It’s not my fault you boys go through pasta like it’s God’s gift.”

“Carbs are good, mom, an essential part of the diet.”

Mary laughed softly before asking, “How are the chickens doing?”

“Good, Donna and Jody are tendin’ to ‘em now.”

“And the garden?”

Smirking, Dean sat at the table, looking over the list Mary had made. “Sam and Letty, mom.”

It had been well over a year since Mary came back; fallen with the Angels was what they concluded, but when Mary died in 1983, her sons had been 4 years and 6 months old, she was a mother and a wife, she was used to running a house and its inhabitants. She was now the same age as her eldest son. Talk about a goddamn mind trip.

“Old habits,” Mary said softly, sitting across from Dean.

Covering Mary’s hands with one of his own, Dean pushed the list aside. “This is as much your house as ours, mom, you know that.”

Letty, dirty hands held out in front of her, jogged in and over to the sink. “You plannin’ to run into town today?”

“You need something?” Mary asked, pulling the notepad from Dean.

“Some tampons would be great.”

“Goddamn it, Purple, how many times I gotta tell ya? I ain’t gettin’ any of that.”

Turning off the water and drying her hands, Letty spun around and leveled Dean with a glare. “It’s _Violet_.”

Dean was about to make a smart-ass remark when someone hit him in the back of his head. “Don’t you do it, mister,” Donna scolded, ready to smack him again if need be.

He whirled around, staring at Donna with wide eyes. “Oh, come on, she knows I’m messin’ around.”

“You apologize, right now.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before offering an apology, “Forgive me?”

Letty narrowed her eyes as she leaned back against the counter. “Only if you bring back all the tampons you can find.”

Mary and Donna were both giggling while Dean sputtered, tongue-tied and rosy-cheeked. Sam strolled in at that moment. “What’d I miss?” He dropped a kiss onto Letty’s crown before washing his dirt-stained hands.

“Your girlfriend’s making me buy tampons,” Dean muttered unhappily.

“And yours made you apologize,” Letty added.

Sam’s brow was arched when he turned around. “Called you Purple again?”

Jody ventured in, arms loaded with a basket of eggs. “We keep gettin’ eggs like this, we’re gonna need another fridge.”

Donna was smiling wide, making her eyes sparkle. “Chicken alfredo for dinner?”

“Two chickens?” Mary asked Jody, spinning around in her seat to face her.

Jody was nodding in agreement. “Two’ll be good. Help cut down on the output before we suffocate from all these.”

Mary was handing the notepad to Donna. “Write down what you need, honey.”

* * *

Mary, after saying goodbye to Jody, was the first one to drop into the car; shotgun, while Dean and Sam said goodbye to Donna and Letty. Even though it was a routine trip into town, neither of them knew what could happen, so they never took parting ways lightly.

Even though Letty was on her toes, Sam had to hunch over in order to press a kiss to her lips. “And if I don’t-”

“I know what to do, Sam,” was her breathy reply.

Donna held Dean’s face in her hands and Dean’s hands were tight on her hips as they kissed. “Don’t be doin’ nothin’ stupid out there, Dean.”

He chuckled, hoping it didn’t come across as cocky. “Me, do something stupid? Not in a hundred years.”

No one liked to talk about it, the possibility of one of them dying, or worse, becoming a walker. But the truth was, there was always a chance it would happen. While each one of them could hold their own, if they made one false move, they’d be done for.

Donna, Letty, and Jody watched as the guys dropped into the car and pulled out of the underground garage, waving as they turned out of view. Once the heavy double doors were locked and secured, Donna was the one to break the silence. “What do you say we go slaughter some chickens, huh?”

* * *

Dean was taking one last look through the pharmacy, making sure he hadn’t missed anything when he heard it; a thick, wet cough. He whirled around and leveled his gun as he crept silently through the door. Sam and Mary emerged from a small market, a pistol in each of their hands.

“You hear that?” Sam whisper-yelled to Dean.

Dean only nodded in response. Scowling in concentration, he took in everything around them; how the leaves fluttered in the breeze and how he could hear some far off wind chime he hadn’t noticed until now. They needed to silence that before they left town; sound attracted walkers. He felt more than saw Sam and his mom come up behind him, each one turning their backs, taking their position so as not to be taken by surprise.

“Think it’s one of them?” Mary asked quietly.

Dean went to answer, but whoever was out there coughed again, groaning low and heavy. He took off in the general direction, Sam and Mary at his heels. They found him in an alley, trying to pull himself up onto an overturned dumpster. Blood was everywhere; pooling beneath him, dripping off the rusted blue dumpster, trailing a path from where he had drug himself along the concrete.

Heavy-lidded eyes fell upon the threesome and the man wheezed out a plea for help. Dean skidded to a stop and, despite having seen his fair share of gruesome things, bent over at the waist and emptied the contents of his stomach. Mary stood at his back, gun pointed to the ground, eyes down the way they had just come.

Sam swallowed the bile in his throat as he carefully approached the stranger. “Where’d you come from?”

He gave up and slid to the ground, hitting it with a wet slap. He pointed in the direction of the smeared blood. “Small camp… ‘bout a mile off.”

Grimacing, Sam pulled off his jacket and pressed it firmly against the man’s stomach. It did little to slow the surge of blood. “Tell me what happened.” He couldn’t look the man in the eye, not when one of them was out of its socket, bouncing off his shredded cheek with every movement.

“Men came… took my girls… said… I could go with… or die.” Every breath was growing more labored, rattling wetly in his chest.

“Do you know who it was?” Dean asked after wiping a rag over his mouth.

“One of ‘em said… Negan says thanks.”

The three Winchesters exchanged confused glances before Mary inquired, “Thanks for what?”

“For my girls… for my food… for tell… tellin’ ‘em ‘bout town.” His one good eye started to lose focus and his head started to loll back.

Sam pushed harder on the man’s belly. “Hey, hey, hey, what’d you tell them?”

The blood started to slow, to grow cool. “Sm… small town. Lots of supplies,” that was the last thing he said before his head smacked against the dumpster with a sickening _squelch_.

* * *

Dean slammed on his brakes, the tires squealing on the pavement, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Mary was out of the car before he had it in park, running toward the man in the middle of the road surrounding by walkers.

“Goddamn it,” he cussed, fumbling to get his door open. He and Sam hit the pavement at the same time, both of them screaming “Mom,” as they waded into the melee.

Mary was single-minded, the knife in her hand going hilt deep into the soft heads of the multiple walkers clawing at the man on the ground. She grabbed at the one closest to him to yank it away, but the cloth in her hand disintegrated, taking her by surprise, causing her to stumble back a few steps. Bony arms closed around her and the scent of death was a suffocating presence.

“Mom!” She heard Sam’s voice right next to her ear, then the familiar sucking sound of his knife entering a walker’s head, along with the quiet pop of Dean’s gun.

Mary shoved a walker off the guy on the ground, then another, but she wasn’t quick enough to stop the one that sank his teeth into the meat of his calf. She screamed in frustration and slammed her knife into the base of the walker’s skull, grinning at the satisfied thump of it hitting the ground.

Sam helped her to her feet while Dean yanked off his belt and wrapped it around the man’s thigh. He wasn’t sure it would stop whatever it was from spreading through his bloodstream, but he had to try.

“Just kill me,” the man gasped. “He’ll kill me anyway.”

“What?” Dean mumbled, really only half listening. Too many things had gone wrong today and it was making him feel like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He wanted to get back to the bunker, the sooner, the better.

“Who’ll kill you?” Mary kneeled beside the injured man, her hand on his shoulder.

“N…n…Negan,” he moaned.

“That name again.” Sam crouched beside his mother. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The guy on the ground laughed, the sound tapering off into a moan of pain. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. He’s coming. Negan is coming.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Who the hell is Negan?” Jody demanded, her eyes on Dean as he stalked around the armory, gathering weapons and ammunition. Donna stood to the side, patiently taking whatever Dean handed her and shoving it into the huge green duffel. **  
**

“We don’t know,” he was shaking his head, his concentration split between Jody’s question and whatever it was he was doing. He’d felt like he was racing headlong into a dark, black tunnel with no idea what was on the other side ever since they’d gotten back to the bunker. The only thing on his mind had been figuring out ways to protect the people he loved. “But I’m pretty sure he’s bad news.”

Jody had never been one to argue with Dean’s instincts, especially since the shit had hit the fan. If he thought this Negan guy was no good, than so did she.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

* * *

“Talk to me Sam,” Letty demanded.

“Letty,” Sam sighed, habitually carding a hand through his hair.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t try to act like you and Dean aren’t spooked, that whatever is going on doesn’t have you worried. Both of you. And your mom. The three bravest, most competent hunters I’ve ever met are worried about something. Now tell me what it is.”

How was he supposed to do this, tell the woman that he loved that he was scared? Sam, this undeclared bad ass hunter that survived being possessed by Lucifer, survived Hell, survived getting his soul shoved back into his body, survived the fucking apocalypse; everything that had been thrown at him, Sam had survived. But Negan was the unknown, uncharted territory that drove a shudder down his spine.

Despite the weight of the situation, Sam smirked down at Letty. “You could always see right through me.”

“You could never lie to me. Now, are you going to tell me what’s goin’ on?” Letty asked, her foot tapping the concrete floor.

So, leaving out none of the grisly details, Sam told Letty everything about the trip into town. She hung on his every word, waiting until he was done before asking, “What are we gonna do?”

Sam shrugged and pulled Letty into him, wrapping long arms around her shoulders. “Survive. It’s what we do best.”

* * *

Dean was in the kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the counter, shoulders bowed, and head hanging when Donna walked in. She cleared her throat as she approached. The last thing she wanted to do was alarm Dean. Standing next to him, she slid a hand up his spine and between his shoulder blades.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Though his shoulders sagged in slight relaxation, Dean didn’t move under Donna’s gentle touch. “There’s too many, you’ll run outta pennies.”

Donna leaned back against the counter and watched Dean. How every breath he took was ragged, how his knuckles had turned opaque, how when his eyes were closed as tightly as they were, his nose would wrinkle just so, pulling his brows further down. “Put it on my tab,” she breathed.

He looked at her then, relaxing further at the comforting gentleness of her gaze, though he still gripped the counter. “We need to limit the supply runs and tighten the security of the bunker. Nobody goes anywhere alone. If we thought we were careful before, we need to seriously rethink everything.”

With a hand on his, Donna nodded in agreement. “What else?”

“I don’t…,” he started, the breath hitching in his throat just enough to drive it home that he really had no fucking clue what to do. How much more could all of them take?

Sam dying? Check. Dean going to Hell? Check. _Sam_ going to Hell? Check. The apocalypse? Check. The angels falling from Heaven? Check.

They handled all of that in stride, and then, to make matters worse, zombies. It was as if the cosmos were playing some cruel prank on them all. A seemingly endless prank, because now, there was someone coming to Lebanon. A man that was scary enough to make someone ask for death at the Winchester’s hands.

Donna kissed Dean’s temple, gasping softly when Dean wrapped her in an arms, pulled her close, and breathed her in. The smell of vanilla made his already racing heart skip a beat, sent a different kind of spark dancing along his skin, made his mind quit tumbling around his head. It wasn’t just Negan that made Dean uneasy. It wasn’t even the thought of what Negan could do to Sam or Mary, Letty or Jody. It was the thought of what Negan could to do Donna that sent a murderous rage thrumming through Dean.

Donna’s nails were scraping through the short hairs on the back of his neck when Dean pulled back and looked at her. “I can’t lose you,” he admitted, blowing out a ragged breath that moved the hairs that had fallen from the binder.

“Oh gosh, you won’t, Dean. I’m staying right here with you, okay?”

* * *

Jody sat across from Mary, sliding a bottle of beer across the table. “This Negan guy’s got Dean pretty shaken up. How are you doin’?”

Mary tried to keep her hand from shaking as she reached for the drink. “Honestly? For the first time in… who knows how long, I’m kinda scared.”

“You ever hear of him?”

“Not a peep, until today,” Mary answered before taking a long pull.

Jody mirrored Mary, unconsciously shrugging her shoulders. “Wonder who the hell he is and why everyone’s so goddamn scared of him.”

“I’ve never seen someone as scared as those men in town were, Jody. It was-,” a shudder finished Mary’s sentence.

“Suppose it wouldn’t hurt to do some research.”

“Do you really think there will be anything here?” Mary asked, disbelief thick on her tongue.

“What’ll it hurt to look?”

* * *

Dean scrapped a hand over his face and slammed the book closed. “Nothing! Not a goddamn thing,” he shouted, sending the chair screeching back as he stood. Donna shot a glare his direction, a gentle reminder to keep his temper in check. He shrugged, grimacing.

“We knew this was a long shot,” Mary said, trying to soothe her son’s anger. She knew how he felt, exactly how he felt. She wanted to scream, to throw things, anything to get out her frustrations. But more than anything, she wanted John.

Not a day had gone by since she’d come back that she hadn’t wondered where her husband was. If she’d come back when the angels fell, it made sense that John should have, too. But they’d never seen him, not once. That didn’t stop her from wishing with every fiber of her being that he would suddenly appear, that he was here to help them, to guide them. She knew the boys felt the same way.

“So, this time we go into this blind,” Sam mumbled. “Won’t be the first time we’ve done it. Maybe we stop assuming Negan is some Supernatural being and we accept the fact that he’s probably just some guy who has used the damn zombie apocalypse to his advantage.” He closed the book in front of him, much gentler than his brother had closed his. “We put ourselves on lockdown and wait it out. It might be the only thing we can do.”

“So, we hide?” Dean sounded none to pleased.   

“What else are we gonna do, Dean?” Sam asked in frustration. “We have no idea who or _what_ this guy is. We can’t go in with guns blazing, not like before. Things are different now!”

Dean’s fiery gaze fell to Donna before he stared at Sam. “You think I don’t know that?”

Letty, all 5’ 4” of her, propelled herself between the brothers when Sam stood. “Nope, this ain’t happenin’. Not now.”

Donna grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed until he tore his gaze from his brother. “Come on. Let’s take a break.”

* * *

Negan dismounted his motorcycle and grabbed Lucille, draping it over his shoulder, the barbed wire catching the collar of the leather he wore for _that_ very reason. Well, one of the reasons. He took in his surroundings and pulled in a deep breath of brisk Lebanon air that was laden with the stench of rotting walkers.

Sneering, he closed his eyes. “Fuck, I can fucking smell ‘em.”

“Smell who, boss?” Simon asked, genuinely curious.

Negan looked down at his right hand man and clapped him on the shoulder. “Family, Simon. Ain’t no fucking smell like it.”


End file.
